


Miserable

by Amymel86



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Drabble, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jonsa 100 Drabble Challenge, jonsa, regency au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 09:36:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21097307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: Jon scoffs. “Sansa is no burden.”“Maybe so. But don’t pretend to me that you relish the thought of attending all those fashionable balls the young ladies like to frequent these days.”He had a point.***Regency au drabble





	Miserable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pandizzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandizzy/gifts).

> Guess who binge-watched Sanditon this week??? lol
> 
> Anywho - here's a regency au drabble for the 100 drabble challenge.
> 
> I now tag Pandizzy with the prompt 'control'

Jon’s hand clenches into a fist that only squeezes tighter and tighter until he had the mind to unfurl his fingers. He sighed and shuffled his boots closer to the window. At this rate he’ll be kneeling on the padded seating of the sill with his bloody nose pressed to the pane of glass. He huffed once more and resolved to turn around and go do something useful, like finish his read of the newspaper.

It was no use.

He was back to staring out of the blasted window again, eyes intent on the three figures making their leisurely stroll across the lawn, towards the manicured gardens here at Red Keep Manor.

A curse on his uncle for tasking him with wardship over his cousin! A curse on his cousin for being so fair of face and manner that she seems to bewitch each and every gentleman so readily! And a particularly terrible curse upon Harrold Hardyng, the first of her potential suitors to clamour for a visit to her at his home!

Jon sighs. There is no blame to be laid at his uncle’s feet. Sansa’s time for coming out into society has been held off long enough, what with her brother, Bran’s fall and recuperation. And the man could not have predicted that he’d be thrown from his horse, injuring his own leg, and rendering him in want of nothing but restorative rest. He had loathed to think he was the cause of his daughter missing the season, so he’d asked the favour of Jon – for him to act as her ward while she is to stay in town.

And Sansa... Sansa cannot help that she is so beautiful. Jon shifts his weight from one foot to the other, watching as his cousin, wearing her pretty pale blue gown, walks alongside Hardyng and her maid, acting as chaperone trails behind. 

“What’s caught your eye out there?” a voice, sudden and startling met his ear. He jolted at the sound and his brother’s hand clasping him on the shoulder both.

“Aegon,” Jon said in greeting. “I thought you’d be on your way to Dragonstone by now.”

“No, no,” his brother responded, now also distracted by the three figures wandering idly across the lush grass. “I’m not to leave until tomorrow. Who is that?”

“That,” Jon says, “is Miss Sansa Stark.” His eyes return to his fair cousin, watching her laugh prettily at something her gentleman caller had said.

“Your cousin?”

“Yes,” he acknowledges. “And I am to be her guardian while she is coming out.” He checks his pocket-watch, attempting to feign nonchalance at the whole affair but in reality noting exactly how much of his cousin’s time Hardyng was taking up.

Aegon chuckles. “Oh, bad luck old chap! The best you can hope for is that fellow down there making a quick proposal.”

“Why would you say that?” Jon turns to look at his brother, horror rounding his eyes. Sansa barely knows the man! And from what little Jon has garnered from their brief introduction and idle chit-chat this morning, Jon misliked him already.

“So you can be rid of the burden?” Aegon answers, nose wrinkled as though the answer was plain and his brother too dull to see it.

Jon scoffs. “Sansa is no burden.”

“Maybe so. But don’t pretend to me that you relish the thought of attending all those fashionable balls the young ladies like to frequent these days.”

He had a point.

Jon sighs. “She has to be seen if she’s to find...” His hand makes a fist again at his side before he wills himself to release it. “We will visit all the social gatherings that my cousin so wishes to attend, brother.”

From the corner of his eye, Jon can see Aegon’s lips twitch in amusement. “Yes, and she’ll have to work doubly hard at attracting a beau with you stood beside her, all misery and distaste. You’ll scare half the ton away before they even get a glance at her beauty.”

Jon huffs. He’s only part listening to his brother. Hardyng and Sansa seemed to have stopped on their stroll to engage in what looks to him to be a most intimate talk. Something raw and heated rises within him when he watches Hardyng pluck a large peony bloom and rather forwardly tuck it behind Sansa’s ear. He could see the pink on his cousin’s fair cheeks from where he stood and he had no liking for its cause - none at all. “Her chaperone is a little lax, don’t you think?” he states rather than asks, only turning to glance at his brother when no agreement comes. Aegon is grinning at him as though some great riddle had been solved. He turns back to the window. “The woman is fifteen, nay..._ twenty_ paces away!” Jon gestures with his hand. “How is she to know what it is they speak of?”

“Oh, let them have their fun, I say,” Aegon tells him. “You may have always been too miserable to make the ladies titter and blush, but it is jolly good fun.”

“I’m not miserable,” Jon says rather glumly. He’s not though. He swears it! Besides, he’s managed to make his cousin blush beautifully a time or two in just the few days that she’s been here. Granted, for the majority of those incidences, it had not been his intention, and it had sparked a hot bloom of red across his own face in return... but he enjoyed making her smile none-the-less.

Just then, Jon watches in horror as his cousin seems to lose her footing over a croquet divot in the lawn. His heart damned near stops when Sansa topples to the ground with what looks like a yelp. His feet are moving fast before he even knows it.

“If you’re quick, you’ll beat her gentleman friend to carrying her to safety!” Aegon calls after him, his voice echoing in amusement.

“Over my _dead body_ is he even touching her!” Jon calls back. He’s met with only laughter, though Jon fails to see what’s so funny. Perhaps he is miserable after all?


End file.
